Monday, July 21, 2014

The origin of the Institute: Breaking Abigail

Eighteen-year-old Abigail Podret knew she was in trouble when her mother walked in on her lying on her bed, in her bedroom, with Jon Southey's hand down her jeans. She just didn't know how bad the trouble was going to be.

Abigail was eighteen, as was Jon. It was the spring of her senior year in high school--she was back home for the March spring break of the boarding schools, and Jon was too, from his own, different school--, and she felt that even though she didn't really get why sex was supposed to be something you wanted to do, it was time for her at least so see if she could bear to do it. If you wanted to do the things that really interested you--for Abigail, that was computer programming, but not boring computer programming--you did sex, and found a rich husband who wasn't too much of an asshole. Or so it seemed to her, though she knew that her parents disagreed about how she should go about finding the husband.

The fact that her parents had told her that good girls weren't easy, without telling her what "easy" meant but implying strongly that it meant not letting Jon Southey put his hand in your panties didn't give her very much pause, because Abigail had a rebellious streak. She didn't think she would like sex, as it had been explained to her in health class, but she certainly didn't care that her mother wanted Abigail to keep her modesty until she was safely married.

Abigail was not averse to sex, she thought, because that would be stupid, and Abigail Podret wasn't stupid. The human race needed to propagate, didn't it? She had to admit she was averse to Jon Southey, after enduring his fumbling caresses for half an hour or so before her mother came home unexpectedly, but she had known more or less, based on health class and on what her friends said, that Jon Southey's hand down her jeans, inside her panties, touching her pussy (Abigail had resolved to use the dirty words, because why shouldn't you?) was what sex had to be like, so why not get it over with? And Jon Southey was cute, according to Abigail's friends. His picture, snatched by her roommate Wendy from the letter Jon had sent in February, more or less proposing that they have sex over March vacation, had pleased the entire floor.

What Abigail was averse to, more than anything else, was telling anybody, ever, what she thought about when she played with herself before falling asleep every night. Which wasn't sex--but one could easily become very confused about that, Abigail realized, since playing with yourself involved the part of the body you also used for sex, apparently, and the pleasure-centers you used to play with yourself also served to make sex bearable, as far as Abigail could tell.

The confusion grew much greater, in spite of Abigail's best attempts to use her penetrating intelligence to puzzle it out and tease the strands apart, in the wake of the incident with Jon Southey. "Wait until your father gets home," was all Abigail's mother would say. That meant a spanking, but it had been a very long time since Abigail's last one. Considering the things Abigail thought about when she touched herself, a spanking for having let Jon Southey put his hand down Abigail's pants seemed likely to mix things Abigail definitely didn't want mixed.But surely her father would simply ground her for the rest of break, right? Abigail tried to convince herself of that as she watched TV, waiting for him to come home. Unfortunately, the attempt yielded very poor results. Dan Podret was a severe man, and forbade all talk of sex, or anything the slightest bit suggestive, in his house. Abigail often wondered how she had even been conceived, given that her parents never touched one another in her presence.

And, Abigail reflected, even being allowed to wear the jeans she had unzipped for Jon to put his hand down had required a major struggle, with much screaming and crying and finally Abigail's mother consulting the next door neighbors. When Prudence Podret told Abigail's father that the next door neighbors were astonished to hear that Abigail wasn't allowed to wear jeans--or indeed anything but skirts--Dan's social shame seemed to overcome his familial shame, and he said that Abigail could buy one pair of jeans, to be worn only at home, on Saturdays and on weekdays during vacation.

But Abigail was eighteen, now. Surely her father would recognize the impropriety of spanking her. Or at least of spanking her bare bottom.

But Dan Podret saw nothing improper in it, it turned out.

"Abigail," he said, after a very awkward dinner, "come to my study after you do the dishes."Abigail swallowed, and said, "Yes, sir."

When Abigail had taken her familiar place on the carpet in the middle of the room, her father turned his desk chair to face her. His face was set in a quiet fury that made Abigail's heart beat fast with fear.

"Abigail, I have no wish to go into the details of what your mother saw, and I suppose you will not be foolish enough to deny it."

Abigail found that she had begun to cry in terror. She shook her head, watching the tears fall to the carpet. She definitely felt foolish. She was eighteen. She could leave and never come back. But if she wanted a real life, she would need her parents' support: there was nothing to be done about it.

"Answer me, Abigail. Are you foolish enough to deny that you were found with a boy's hand in your pants?"

"No, sir," Abigail choked out.

"That's something, at least," her father said, though without the slightest softening of his tone.

"Abigail, I wonder if you know what people call girls who let boys do that kind of thing."

Oh my God, Abigail thought. It's the 1980's now. Why do my parents have to be stuck in the '50's?

"No?" Dan Podret said. "They call them 'easy', Abigail. No daughter of mine is going to be called 'easy', if I can possibly help it. Get yourself over the arm of the sofa, and bare your backside."

"Sir, no, please. . ."

"If I have to ask you again, Abigail, you'll be very sorry you didn't obey me. I can whip you until you can't sit down for a week, if you need me to. Do you need me to do that, Abigail?"

As eighteen-year-old Abigail Podret pleasures herself in her family’s summer-house, she cries out the name of Mark LeMarchand, the man she secretly loves. She has no idea that he stands steps away, ready to do what she most desires: strip her naked, spank her hard, and take her even harder. But as a result of her stern upbringing, Abigail finds herself unable to give herself to Mark no matter how badly she longs for it. Mark is determined to help Abigail, and with the assistance of wealthy friends he creates the Institute, a place where women agree to have their memory of consent suppressed by hypnosis in order to free them to enjoy their submission fully. When Mark tells Abigail about the Institute, she realizes it may be her only chance at real happiness. After agreeing to the program, Abigail wakes up at the Institute and meets Master Ian, under whose firm hand she will be taught to please a man in any way he requires. Absolute obedience is expected of her and anything less will result in punishments as shameful as they are effective. But when Abigail inadvertently discovers the truth about The Institute, will she decide to finish her training or will she leave and rush into Mark’s waiting arms? Publisher’s Note: Breaking Abigail is a stand-alone story set in the world of Bought and Trained and An Extreme Marriage, but prior to the events of those books. It is an erotic novel that includes extensive BDSM content, spankings, sexual scenes, anal play, elements of exhibitionism and voyeurism, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

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About Me

Emily Tilton, whose books have hit number one on Amazon in four different erotica categories, wishes she could live out her fantasies of submission the way her characters do.

Emily's erotica is a narrative version of her nearly lifelong quest to reconcile her submissive erotic orientation with her ethics. She writes erotica, not erotic romance: her books are about sex, because writing about sex helps her understand that fundamental part of her life better. She hopes maybe it does the same for her readers.

Over the many years since Emily became aware of her sometimes unbearable craving for ravishment, spanking, and above all anal domination, she has tried to come to terms with that craving in more ways than she can count. The first of the ways was by reading, voraciously, every piece of BDSM erotica she could find.

Eventually, she read Story of O. As is reflected throughout her work, it changed her life, though the change has been gradual, and continues to this day. The idea that other women might share the lusts she has by turns been ashamed of and defiantly proud of, that a woman like the real Pauline Réage might write so beautifully of those lusts, and work them out so thoroughly and even pitilessly on a character, put Réage's famous pencil in her right hand. Or, to put it in the terms of EXPLORATIONS, which she considers her magnum opus, it put her left hand on the keyboard of her laptop and her right hand in her lap, if you know what she means. Emily started to write spanking stories.